


midnight runs and other things

by isamagicdragon



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, M/M, Meet-Cute, Platonic Cuddling, Psychiatric Admission (Voluntary), Sleepwalking, Texting, art therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2020-10-11 20:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20552081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isamagicdragon/pseuds/isamagicdragon
Summary: Sokka's neighbor keepssneakingsleepwalking into his apartment.Meanwhile, Zuko keepssleepwalkingsneaking out of his neighbor's apartment.Or -- the one where Zuko is mostly asleep, Sokka is mostly awake, and everyone is definitely confused.





	1. Sokka

Sokka’s neighbor keeps sneaking into his room. 

The first time it happened, Sokka had just come home drunk from a party at Teo’s that got _way_ out of hand. So when a random dude swings into his window, his first instinct wasn't “scream and call the police”, it was “yell at the intruder angrily about how rude it is to use the window instead of the door”. 

It's obviously not effective at intimidating the intruder into un-intruding. But, for some reason, it does convince the rando to sit on the couch instead of stealing Sokka’s shit, so Drunk Sokka decides to take that as a win and promptly passes out in his bed. When he wakes up, there isn't any sign at all of a stranger having been in his home, and after a panicked and extensive search of the entire apartment, care of Hungover Sokka, he begins to wonder if he had just hallucinated the entire thing. 

Still — no harm done, right? Sokka shrugs, and eventually forgets about it. 

~

Until it happens again, that is. Sokka is on a Red Bull-fueled design marathon for Hawky the Robot Messenger Bird Mark III when someone knocks at his apartment. 

It’s two in the morning. No one makes house calls at two in the morning, unless their name is Aang and they’ve lost the keys to their apartment again, or —

— or it’s the police, and they’re saying _I’m sorry, son, but your parents were in a car accident, is there anyone you can call to stay with you and your sister tonight? _

Sokka bolts to the door and wrenches it open, heart pounding in his chest, and is both relieved and annoyed to find that it’s just his grumpy neighbor from across the hall. 

“What do you want?” he snaps. He’d been on a roll with the wing redesign, okay! And while he’s really glad that no one’s hurt, the adrenaline rush will take a while to fade and until then _no work_ is going to be completed. 

But the guy just… stands there. Sort of. What he’s doing isn’t really _standing_, it’s more like… leaning his entire weight on the wall. 

A beat passes, and the guy doesn't even make a sound. Sokka drags a hand down his face, exasperated. “Look,” he begins belligerently, “I don't know what your problem is, but it's two in the morning and I have better things to do than be pranked or be murdered. What do you want?”

The guy _still_ doesn't react, he's just standing there, staring at his bare feet, taking deep, even breaths while leaning— _holy shit this guy is asleep. _

Sokka stares. 

He _is._ Sokka just didn't notice because the dude’s fluffy bangs are covering his eyes, which are _closed_. And belatedly, Sokka notices that the door across the hall is ajar. It doesn't take much for Sokka to put two and two together, and realize he has a sleepwalker in his hands. 

Sokka curses under his breath. He whips out his phone and fires off a quick _how to deal with sleepwalker_ search. 

_The best trick is to help the sleepwalker return safely to his or her bed without waking him or her, if possible. Taking care not to touch the sleepwalker too much, gently turn him or her in the direction of her bed, and walk near the person until he or she gets back into bed._

Oh god, he has to bring this guy to his _bed_? Sokka pulls a face, but he has to concede that it’s better than waking the dude in a random hallway and getting punched. He eyes his neighbor’s shoulders — his arms are roped with muscle, and Sokka estimates that a punch from this dude will rank painfully high on a scale from 1 to Suki kicking his balls that one time he said “girls are just naturally weaker than boys”. 

He sighs, and gently nudges the guy into his own apartment. Sokka dithers at the door though; it’s really weird going into another person's house without permission. Unless knocking at a neighbor’s door while saying absolutely nothing counts as permission? 

In the end, standard protocol wins out (as much as wikiHow could count as standard protocol anyway) and Sokka steps into the guy's apartment with him. He flicks the light open, hoping that it doesn't wake Grumpy and Muscly Neighbor up. 

And stares. 

He’s been to a lot of apartments belonging to twenty-something bachelors before, and this… this is Not It. It’s clean, for starters. And everything looks _fucking expensive_, for another. The place is huge, with sleek, minimalist furniture, and _actual art_ framed on the walls. The kind with random blobs of color that rich people like so much, but only ever made Sokka scratch his head whenever he sees them in museums. The far wall of the living room is dominated by a shelf, filled to bursting with a huge collection of books and displays of antique swords. 

He stares at his neighbor again. He barely looks older than Sokka — shouldn't he be living in Millennial destitution as well? How the hell can he afford to live in a place like this? 

_Focus, Sokka_. It's bad enough he went into the apartment without permission; he shouldn’t pry into Grumpy and Apparently Wealthy Neighbor's life on top of that intrusion. There's another door ajar off to the side, and Sokka leads the guy into what he assumes is the bedroom. There's more books and more art here, but the blue and orange blobs feel _personal_ somehow, so he averts his gaze and gets started on the task of tucking his neighbor into bed. 

How is this his life? It’s two in the morning, and in the space of fifteen minutes he went from building a bird, panicking about Katara, and tucking his _ridiculously <strike>muscled</strike> heavy neighbor into bed. _

When the gentle nudges wouldn't convince the guy to lay down, Sokka resigns himself to physically laying the guy into the (frankly obscenely large) bed. Thankfully, he doesn't protest. He just snuffles a bit, and goes straight back to sleep. Sokka would find it inordinately adorable, if not for the huge scar on his face. And of course, if not for the _absolute terror_ that coursed through Sokka’s veins at the thought of his grumpy neighbor who probably knew kung fu _waking up_ to the extremely compromising position they were in.

He doesn't wake up, though, and Sokka counts that as a win. He makes his way out of the apartment, and quietly locks the door behind him. 

~

It becomes a regular occurrence. 

His neighbor knocks at his door at two in the morning, every Thursday and Sunday, without fail. Luckily, Sokka hardly ever crashes into bed before four, so the knocking doesn't wake him up. Otherwise, he’d be really pissed— if he had to wake up and get up twice a week just to get the door for his asshole neighbor, he’d yell first and ask questions later, risk of getting punched be damned. 

This also means that he’s in this dude’s apartment _regularly_. Without ever having spoken to the guy when he’s actually _awake_. Sokka is pretty sure that a person shouldn't be allowed to _not know someone’s name_ if you’ve already put them to bed when they’re missing a shirt. 

That was a memorable night. Sokka knew that the guy was fit, but he hadn’t expected _that_. 

“— and I swear to God, if Lee from Biophysics tries to pull this stunt again, I’m going to tell Dad, and that means the Dean is going to get pulled into this mess — are you even listening?!”

Sokka banishes the image of Ridiculously Fit Neighbor’s abs, and drags himself back to his conversation with Teo. “Huh? What did Lee do this time?”

His friend huffs in annoyance. “I said Lee pre-booked the Biorobotics lab for the rest of the month. I’ve already gone to Dr. Chang to complain, but he just said that if we needed it we should have reserved it earlier. Now it’s only available at night.”

His jaw drops. “No — no way!” Sokka splutters. “He can’t do that! We need to finish this phase by next month if we want to publish within —“

“I know.”

“And if the lab is only free at night, that means you can’t join me —“

“I _know_, Sokka.” Teo sighs, and puts his soldering iron down dejectedly. “His reservations end at nine at night. It takes us an hour to set up, three hours for a good run, and then another hour to pack up — if we take the slot immediately after his, we’ll probably finish at three in the morning.”

And Teo can’t ask his Dad to come pick him up everyday at three in the morning. Taking Ubers will get fucking expensive real quick, and besides, it’s hard to get a ride that’s wheelchair friendly. Not for the first time, Sokka wishes he had a car — this problem would be so easy to solve if he could take Teo home himself. 

Sokka gets up from his desk, crosses the workshop, and pulls Teo into a hug. “Don’t worry,” he says, when they pull apart, “I’ll take care of it. You can get started on preparing the mechanics for Phase 5.” Teo opens his mouth to argue, but Sokka beats him to it. “This way, when I’m done with test runs on the link-ups, you’ll be done with the prototypes for the braces.” 

Teo looks overwhelmed for a hot second, but then he gives Sokka a grateful, if tired, smile. “You’re the best, Sokka. I’m really gonna owe you one.”

“Maybe you can start with lunch?” Sokka tries to make his best innocent face at Teo, but Teo only barks in laughter. 

“I don’t owe you _that_ much! If I treat you to lunch you’ll run my wallet into the ground!”

Sokka grins. “Ah well, it was worth a try.”

Teo picks up his soldering iron again, and gets back to the link-up prototypes. “That means you won’t be home for Sexy Sleepwalker next week.” He shoots Sokka a cheeky grin. “You must be so disappointed.”

Sokka groans. He knew it was a mistake to tell Teo about his hot, sleepwalking neighbor, but Teo had caught him Googling “somnambulance” on the computer for the lab’s 3-D printer, and the entire story came tumbling out of his traitor mouth at the slightest prodding from Teo. Then Teo told the Duke, who told Toph, who told Aang, who told Katara, who called him from halfway across the world just to yell at him about _respecting other people’s privacy_ and _not spreading someone's secrets across the entire continent_. Really not his proudest moment — Sokka _had_ been trying to do the honorable thing and maintain his neighbor’s privacy, but apparently that desire wasn't enough to stop him from spilling secrets that weren't his to spill. All that effort not to peek at the neighbor’s mail for even just a name, and Sokka still fucks it up. 

Also, he is _not_ disappointed that he’s going to miss an entire month’s worth of opportunities to see Sexy Sleepwalker’s sexy abs again. He _isn't_. He says as much to Teo, who just laughs at him mockingly. 

Sokka scowls, but just goes back to work. 

~

Predictably, Dr. Chang doesn't budge on the scheduling issue, and Sokka is stuck with the night shift for the rest of the month. 

“I’m so sorry I can't help you with Phase 4, Sokka, but I’ll give us a headstart on Phase 5, and I can get started on drafting our introductory chapters,” Teo promises apologetically. As if Sokka could ever blame him for something that was outside his control. Still, though, Teo is right — it’ll be more efficient this way, so Sokka doesn't argue. 

The work seems more tedious to do at night, and since Teo isn't there to help out, Sokka is essentially doing the work of two people at god-awful o’clock. Naturally, by the end of the first session, Sokka is so exhausted that all he really wants to do is crash into the nearest soft surface for the night. 

Erm, morning. He gets back to his apartment at four in the morning, and he doesn’t even bother turning on the lights. He just dumps his bag on the dining table, and his feet turn automatically to the couch. 

But someone is already laying on the couch. Sokka freezes, then blinks. 

It’s his neighbor. 

What the fuck. 

How did he even get in? Sokka’s door was locked when he arrived — he knows, because it took him three tries to get the right key into the lock. And he’s pretty sure that his neighbor’s door was closed when he walked by it a while ago. He ducks back into the hallway to check, and yes, it’s just as he suspected. Locked. 

Dammit, how is he supposed to get Pesky Sleepwalker back into his _own_ bed now?

Sokka is too tired to think his way through this on his own, so he does what he always does in a crisis. He calls Katara. 

“Sokka? It’s four in the morning in your time zone. Did something happen?”

“No, no, nothing serious,” he rushes to reassure her. He’s very familiar with the anxiety of unexpected late-night phone calls. 

Katara sighs in relief. “Oh thank God. I was worried that — never mind. What’s up?”

“I just got home, but the stupid sleepwalker is already in my house.”

“What? How?!”

Sokka groans. “I don't know — I’m too tired to think. What should I do?”

“Well, take him back to his own apartment like you usually do!

“Not possible, unfortunately.” Sokka gives the stupid door knob another wiggle, but it still doesn't turn. “He closed and locked his own door this time.”

Katara tuts at him from the other end of the line. Which is just as annoying over the phone as it is in person. “I guess you should just wait for him to wake up. This would go a lot smoother if you had _already_ informed him he sleepwalks, you know.”

“I told you already, I tried, but I never run into him in the lobby, or the elevator, or anywhere ever,” he retorts, rolling his eyes. “How am I supposed to tell him if I’ve never even seen him outside of… whatever this is?” He gives up on trying to jimmy open the lock, and turns back to his own apartment. “You're _sure_ I can't wake him up myself?”

“Don't you dare, Sokka,” Katara says sternly. “You could startle him and he could seriously hurt you. Especially now that he's in a place he's not familiar with. Just wait for him to wake up naturally, and be as reassuring and non-threatening as possible.”

“Geez, now I have to stay up even later thanks to Neighbor Sleepwalks A Lot,” he yawns. “Anyway, thanks for picking up. I know you're busy. I'll let you get back to whatever it is you're doing.”

Katara’s voice softens. “Alright, Sokka. Good luck with your sleepwalker situation. I love you.”

That pulls a tired smile from Sokka. “Love you too, ‘Tara. Good night.”

He hangs up. Alright. Time to not wake up the neighbor. Sokka steps back into his room, and closes the door as quietly as he can. It’s cold inside — way colder than usual, and Sokka finally notices that one of his windows is wide open. 

He smacks himself on the forehead. This is how the neighbor got in that first time too. What do you know, it wasn’t a drunken hallucination after all. 

But if Ninja Sleepwalker over here managed to get back to his own room with no assistance from Sokka that time, then that _technically_ means he should be fine with it this time too. He ninja’ed his way into Sokka’s room he can ninja his way back out. And if he can't, then he'll just have to stay put when he wakes up until Sokka can explain things to him. 

Decision made, Sokka marches into his own room, and crashes into bed. 

~ 

When he wakes up, a solid twelve hours later, the living room is empty, and the window is closed. 

Sokka stares for a moment, then shrugs. Not his problem anymore, then. 


	2. Zuko

Zuko wakes up in his own bed, which is a good sign.

He wakes up wearing someone else’s sweatshirt, which is a bad sign.

He shoots out of bed, alarmed, and rushes into his bathroom to check himself for injuries. It’s not the first time he’s sleep-stolen before, but all the previous incidents had come with cuts and bruises.

No marks today, though. He sighs in relief.

But there's still the problem of the sweatshirt. It’s a deep indigo, emblazoned with NORTH U in bold capitals. From a university, then. Zuko pulls it off wearily. Maybe it’s from the student who lives in the apartment down the hall?

He’s going to have to find a way to sneak this into the building managers’ office with a note — he would give it in person, but he has no idea how to explain to the building’s managers that _ yes, I sleepwalk, yes, I sleep-break into people’s houses, _ and _ yes, I sleep-steal my neighbor’s belongings. _

_ Remind me to return neighbor’s sweatshirt, _he texts his assistant, then heads to his balcony to meditate to the sunrise.

~

The office is a shitshow when he gets there, as usual. Ozai’s trial might be over, but Zuko still has a lot of work to do to clean up the company’s leadership. Getting rid of the conspirators for the Wu Long Forest Fire was hard enough; finding people capable and trustworthy enough to replace them might as well be impossible.

To make matters worse, Uncle wasn’t even in the same country. As soon as his name was cleared and he was released from prison, Uncle took it upon himself to lead the dismantling of the aborted pipeline in the Wu Long Forest. It’s important work, yes, but that leaves Zuko alone in the head office with the enormous burden of managing the company, surrounded by people he can’t trust.

Mostly, anyway.

Teruko descends on him the moment he steps out of the elevator. “Good morning, sir — Zhao at eight, Ty Lee for lunch, and the board of directors at three. Your tea is at your desk — the jasmine dragon pearl your uncle sent — and the reports from Finance should be in before your eight o’clock.” She fusses him out of his coat and nudges him toward his office, where the smell of jasmine tea pervades the air.

It’s _ almost _ enough to calm him down, but he’s firing Zhao at eight. Knowing that bastard, security might have to get involved.

He manages to force a smile for Teruko — she always knew which days would be the worst, and always put in a little extra effort to make his day better. “Thanks,” he says, and settles down to read his emails.

_ Excited to see you for lunch — dimsum or noodles ur choice, _from Ty Lee.

_ Have idea for Zhao replacement (resume attached), _ from Jian, who heads Operations. Zuko snorts when he opens the attachment; of _ course _ that old codger is recommending his son, and of _ course _ the son is nowhere near qualified. If Jian is banking on Ruon Jian’s “friendship” with Zuko back in college as an assurance that the asshat is going to get employed, he’s got another thing coming — there are reasons why Ruon Jian hasn’t gotten a job since he graduated, and Zuko just saw a few _ reasons _ on his Instagram feed the night before.

_ Thank you for your continued trust in us. We have updated our safety guidelines and visiting procedures to ensure your loved ones’ safety and well-being; please find a copy attached to this e-mail. Visiting hours will remain the same, _from Azula’s treatment facility.

Updated safety guidelines?! Zuko’s blood runs cold, and he grabs his phone.

There’s already a text, though, from Azula’s attending — _ Ms. Azula is fine, only a minor issue between other patients. Will text + call you immediately if Ms. Azula has problems. There’s no need to worry. _

Zuko slumps back into his chair in relief. Azula has been getting better — much better — but he still has nightmares of finding her slumped over the broken shards of her mirror.

_ But she’s better now _. Zuko takes a few calming breaths, and steps out of his office, empty teapot and cup in hand. “Teruko, can you take care of the tea things? And remind me to call Azula’s —”

Zhao is striding through the elevator doors, a shark’s smile firmly in place. He’s thirty minutes early; trying to catch Zuko off his guard, no doubt. There are a couple of men behind him, one of whom Zuko recognises to be part of Ozai’s legal team.

“Sir —”

Zuko grits his teeth, and takes another deep breath. “Call Legal, and have security on standby,” he hisses at Teruko, then pastes on his fakest smile and turns to Zhao.

~

He ends up rescheduling with Ty Lee, and he feels like shit for it — she had flown in to the city just for _ him,_ and if her shoot pushes through at the end of the week, she’ll be halfway across the world for the next six months at least, to film her next movie.

_ Don’t worry, I get it, _ she had chirped over the phone, _ I can hang out with Mai instead! _ But Zuko has known Ty Lee for twenty years; he can tell an _ upset chirp _ from a truly _ cheerful chirp _ from a mile away at this point. Zuko should really feel guiltier about making _ Ty Lee, _ of all people, upset, but all he can manage to feel is _ tired. _

That had been a close call, with Zhao. Bastard had more friends in upper management than Zuko had expected; Zuko had to fire two more people and received the resignation of another by the end of the day. Only Shyu’s stock-magic had managed to prevent Zhao’s group from buying Zuko out. That afternoon’s board meeting was even more of a disaster than Zuko had expected because of the fallout from Zhaopocalypse.

And it’s only Wednesday.

At least he’d managed to catch Azula over the phone, and she’d deigned to let him visit that weekend. He’s not sure if he could have managed a loss on that front too.

Zuko crashes into his apartment way past ten in the evening; he’s completely exhausted, but he changes into his sleep pants and dutifully lights his candles to meditate. No need to make his day worse by ending it in a stranger’s apartment. It’s harder to find his center today, as expected — he keeps randomly imagining his fist breaking Zhao’s stupid nose — but he perseveres. When the candles gutter, and his mind is sufficiently cleared, he goes to bed.

~

Zuko wakes up on an unfamiliar couch, in an unfamiliar room, with an unfamiliar man crouched over him, inches away from his face.

For an ugly moment, Zuko is frozen, eyes locked onto the stranger’s wide, blue ones —then the adrenaline rushing through his body takes over, and he throws a punch in the second it takes him to wake. The man yells in pain — another strike and he’s down, and Zuko has his attacker pinned to the ground.

“Who are you?!” Zuko demands, voice still raspy from sleep. “Where have you taken me?”

The man struggles against Zuko’s hold. “Hey — I wasn't trying to hurt you! Let me go!”

As if Zuko is going to believe that. He tightens his grip, and the stranger squeaks. “I want answers,” he hisses, eyes narrowing.

“I — fine! I’m your neighbor, and I didn't take you anywhere, you broke in here all by yourself!”

Neighbor? What?

Zuko looks around wildly, and to his dismay, the guy is right.

He is in the next door apartment. Zuko isn't used to seeing it with the lights on, but he’s woken up in here often enough over the past weeks to know that yes, this is his neighbor’s house, and yes, he probably snuck in while he was sleepwalking again.

Belatedly, he realizes that he still has his neighbor in a chokehold, and immediately lets go.

The man coughs, and gets to his feet. “Well. This is awkward,” he says, rubbing at his neck. “I usually don't let people see me in my boxers until I at least know their name, but here we are.”

And the guy _ is _ mostly naked, because sleeping mostly nude is a thing people do _ in their own homes _. Zuko flushes. Great, he’s a creep on top of a burglar now.

He takes a steadying breath, and then gathers up what remains of his dignity to face his neighbor. “Sorry about that. My name is Zuko; I live down the hall. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I have a slight problem with sleepwalking —” the guy snorts derisively, but Zuko steels himself and soldiers on “— and I have a tendency of, um, visiting my neighbors when I’m asleep.”

“Slight problem — that's _ one _ way to put it,” his neighbor replies, rolling his eyes. “I’m Sokka. Of the million times you've been here, of _ course _ you end up decking me on the one time I try to be extra nice and give you a blanket.”

Sokka bends down to pick up a blanket from the floor that Zuko hadn't noticed. “At least you didn't break my nose,” he continues, “because I don't have insurance and it would be a bitch to have to go to the hospital.”

“I apologize,” Zuko says on autopilot, because his brain hasn't woken up completely yet, the Senate hearings for that damned _ oil pipeline _ just ended last week and apologising for bullshit that’s not his fault is still reflexive at this point. “If you end up needing treatment anyway, just let me know —”

Then what his neighbor said hits him, a couple of seconds too late — _ a million times?! _

Zuko cuts himself off, and stares at Sokka. “Did you say I’ve been here a million times?!”

“I — uh — yeah,” Sokka confirms. He shoots Zuko a sheepish glance, but goes back to folding up the blanket. “Sorry — I meant to tell you, but I never ran into you in the lobby. Seems like you're gone in the afternoons, when I'm at home, or you're already asleep when I get home from work.”

As if conversations in person were the only lines of communication open to the human race at this point in time? He didn't think of leaving a note in Zuko’s mailbox? Asking the building managers for his contact information?

Zuko’s brain finally finishes booting up, and it’s heading straight for its pre-morning meditation default: barely restrained anger.

Inhale, exhale.

“If you could never catch me at the right time, why didn't you just leave me a note? Last I checked, humanity_ had _ discovered writing.” No yelling — good. Great. If he takes even breaths, he can keep a hold of this calm.

Sokka, though, looks dumbfounded. “Huh. A note. I didn't think of that.”

Do _ not _ break the idiot’s nose.

Zuko drags a hand down his face in frustration. “Well, now you've told me. But have I been sneaking in, and not only were you okay with this, you didn't even bother waking me up all this time?!”

“WikiHow says you're not supposed to wake up a sleepwalker, because it could be _ dangerous_, “ Sokka says loftily. He points to his own face in emphasis; it’s still red where Zuko had punched him. “Besides, the breaking and entering is new — you just used to wander down the hallway and knock. I would take you back to your own bedroom and that'd be the end of it. But my experiments run late these days, so I haven't been home at two in the morning for the regularly scheduled Sexy Sleepwalker Special, so I guess you got so fed up waiting for someone to open the door you sleep-decided to sneak in instead. Let me tell you, that first time I walked in and there was a stranger in my couch —”

“Hold on, hold on,” Zuko interrupts. Parts of that incomprehensible monologue are tripping up his brain. “Sexy Sleepwalker Special?!”

Sokka stops his rambling, and turns to Zuko in genuine confusion. “I just told you I've been in your room multiple times over the past few months —”

_ “What?” _

“— and you choose to fixate on the fact that you're sexy?!"

Zuko can feel his flush deepening — he blames it on the anger. He opens his mouth, fully prepared to unleash his temper on his unsuspecting neighbor, but instead, he blurts:

“I— you — you think I’m sexy?”

Oh Agni. _ Agni_, smite him now, that is _ not _ what he meant to say. How can his own tongue be so hilariously incompetent, he should fire it, and it can go start a club with Zhao and start plotting how to ruin his professional _ and _ personal life too.

His idiocy seems to have rendered Sokka speechless as well. For a long moment, neither of them can figure out what to_ say, _they just... stand around and marinate in their mutual embarrassment.

Sokka recovers first. “It's not my fault I have _ eyes,_ moron!” he snarls, his cheeks red with anger. “And I’m not the one who came up with the name, my friends came up with it when I told them what was happening! Aang and Teo look nice but they can be real jerks sometimes —”

This guy had the audacity to _ tell his friends _ about Zuko’s sleepwalking problem, but completely neglects to tell Zuko himself? Doesn't even make the effort to slide a _ goddamn note _ under Zuko’s door?!

Just like that, the intense humiliation is swapped out for incandescent anger. And look, it’s sunrise — seems like a reasonable time for Zuko to start yelling.

“You could've just _ told _ me the first time it happened, so I could have done something about it! Instead, you blab about _ my _ private affairs to people I don't even _ know_, and now everyone knows about the fucking _ Sleepwalking Special _ but me!” Zuko roars.

“Hey, I said I was sorry!” Sokka shouts back. “And I had to ask for advice — there isn't exactly a _ social protocol _to follow for when you get a burglar who breaks in just to nap on your couch!”

“And you just waltzed right into my home, with no permission, even went into my _ bedroom _ to put me back to bed, do you have any idea how fucking creepy that is?! How did you even get in —"

“_ You _ left your own door wide open! What was I supposed to do, leave you out in the hall, where you could have fallen down the stairs? And I didn't take anything, I even _ locked the damn door on my way out — _”

“— and who the hell is crazy enough to let a burglar sleep in their own home anyway?!”

“WikiHow says that you shouldn't wake sleepwalkers up, because they can wake up disoriented and violent! You _ just _ clocked me in the face for waking you up! You're lucky I don't call the police on your ass and have you arrested for assault!”

That shuts Zuko up quickly and effectively. However questionable Sokka’s sleepwalking solutions were, _ Zuko _ had been breaking into Sokka’s home. That is unambiguously wrong, and definitely illegal.

Zuko bows stiffly. “I apologize for the break-ins. If you need any compensation for your injuries, let me know,” he says woodenly.

There's a tense moment of silence, and then Sokka heaves a great sigh. “Aw, don't be like that,” he says softly, “it’s not like it's your fault —"

“Thank you for your… assistance in this matter. You have done me a service; let me know how I can repay you —" 

“Repay me?! No no no, there's no need to _ repay me _ for being a decent human being!"

“— and I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to prevent any further incidents, but I’d appreciate it if you woke me instead in case this happens again.” Zuko straightens up, and looks Sokka in the eye. “That should be it. I'll head back to my own apartment now.”

“I — uh —” Sokka gives up, sighing, and points to the door. “Lock the door on your way out. I'm going to bed.”

Zuko heads out, and is careful to lock Sokka’s door as instructed. When he gets back to his own apartment, it looks like he had been just as careful with his own.

Inhale, exhale.

He turns around, and awkwardly knocks on Sokka’s door.

It opens almost immediately. “What happened?” Sokka asks.

“My door is locked,” Zuko says flatly. “Can I borrow your window?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really think "circus acrobat" was a good fit for runaway priveleged girl Ty Lee in a modern AU, so here she ran away to be a movie star instead. Heh.
> 
> Hopefully I got the mix of angry, tired, shouty and frustrated that is Zuko correctly.
> 
> EDIT: forgot to mention that Teruko is an OC taken from MuffinLance's works! If you haven't read their fics yet, GO they will change your life i s2g
> 
> My ATLA sideblog [here](https://zukosturtleducks.tumblr.com), and for those interested, a new FMAB sideblog [here](http://late-to-the-fmab-party.tumblr.com) ! After I finish midnight runs I might end up writing for FMA sksksfjs


	3. Zuko

“And then you_ borrowed_ _his_ _window?!”_

Zuko sighs. “Ty Lee, you promised you wouldn't laugh at me,” he whines. The face he pulls sends her into a fit of giggles -- the kind that will make Ty Lee useless for the time being.

He throws down his menu with a huff, and flags down a waiter. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he says sullenly. “I’ll eat all the shrimp dumplings and then  _ not _ order us dessert, just try me.”

All that gets him is another peal of laughter, which is decidedly not the respect he had been trying to threaten out of Ty Lee. Zuko grits his teeth, and dictates their order to the bewildered waiter over her hiccups. He makes sure to include all of the dim sum that she hates, but caves and orders them mango pomelo sago anyway.

Not because it’s Ty Lee’s favorite dessert, of course -- it's just unseasonably hot out and Zuko likes mangoes.

“Tell me more about this neighbor who thinks you're sexy, Mr. Sexy Sleepwalker,” Ty Lee says, once she recovers from her temporary bout of insanity. “You know, the one you punched and stole from!”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “I’m not even sure if the sweater is his!” Although Sokka  _ is _ the most likely owner; the old lady downstairs and the middle-aged couple upstairs aren’t the type to own college sweatshirts. “Can we talk about something else? Like the shoot you're supposed to be on right now?”

She waves her hand dismissively. “Not important. But  _ you _ ending up in a random guy’s apartment, though, is very important to me.” She makes a show out of getting settled in -- plants an elbow on the table, rests her chin on the heel of her hand, and grins evilly at Zuko. “So. Is he hot? Is he your type? You've got a real meet-cute going on, maybe you can arrange to sleepwalk into his bed instead of his couch next time --”

“ _ Ty Lee _ ,” Zuko groans. “I told you already, I don't actually remember much about him apart from the stuff I already told you. And besides -- there shouldn't be  _ any _ sleepwalking happening anymore. I can't keep breaking into people’s houses, I can get someone seriously injured. There  _ has _ to be a more effective solution than evening meditation -- if I really had been sneaking in to Sokka’s house all this time, it isn't working.”

“Aw, you're no fun,” Ty Lee pouts. Then a glint of something calculating flashes through her eyes, there for a flicker before getting squashed under her usual airheaded cheer.

He narrows his eyes.

“You're no fun,” she repeats, “but if you really need to stop sleepwalking, I think I have a solution.”

“Oh?” he says, reluctantly interested. As much as he wants a solution, though, Ty Lee can be just as conniving as Azula when it suits her. Zuko’s a bit wary of what it’ll cost.

The waiter arrives with tea, and Zuko pours himself a cup.

“Yes!” She beams. “I can sleep with you!”

Zuko chokes on his tea.

“ _ T-Ty Lee _ !” he splutters, scrambling for a napkin and hurriedly mopping up the mess.

“Aw! You don’t want to? It’ll be good, I promise” she asks. She even has the  _ gall _ to wink at him, and to reach across the table to take his hand.

He doesn’t have the heart to snatch it back though, so he settles for rolling his eyes. “Come on, we both know that you don’t have a di -- um….” Zuko realizes exactly what he’s saying, and manages to stop himself from finishing that sentence before he has to cut off his own tongue.

Ty Lee dissolves into giggles again, and he resigns himself to stewing in silence until the food arrives.

“You just make it so _easy_,” she says, wiping a tear away as she reaches for her chopsticks. Zuko scowls, and yanks the steamer with the shrimp dumplings to his side of the table; Ty Lee is apparently contrite enough to ignore his hoarding. “But I didn’t mean it like that, silly -- you’re not exactly _my type_ either. I mean, you know, like a sleepover! We used to do that all the time, remember?”

Zuko relaxes a bit. “Yeah, I remember,” he says slowly. Back when he started sleepwalking, his mom had invited his friends -- Azula’s friends, really, Zuko had never been much good with his peers even as a child -- to frequent sleepovers.  _ It’ll be fun _ , she used to say, when Zuko asked why; looking back, though, he realizes it was a safeguard against his sleepwalking. If he had to climb over Azula, Ty Lee, and Mai to get out of bed, one of them was bound to wake up too, and whoever woke up would take care of the sleepwalking Zuko.

“We could do that again! If you wake one of us up on your way out, we can just wake  _ you _ up!”

“We?” Zuko echoes. “You’re going to rope Mai into this? How?!”

Mai is in her last year of law school and as far as Zuko knew, the only things keeping her alive are coffee and spite. She’d been under a lot of pressure from her mother to do well in law school and land a great job, especially after they found out that Governor Ukano had drained their family savings on his legal team for the Wu Long Forest Fiasco. He hasn't seen her since the scandal broke out, and he highly doubts that Mai is going to surface from wherever she’d gone to ground just to  _ cuddle _ with Zuko.

“Don't worry about Mai -- leave it to me! If we're there, you won't have to worry about sleepwalking either.” Ty Lee smiles brightly at him.

Too brightly.

“What do you want?” Zuko asks suspiciously. 

Her eyes widen, and her smile slips a bit. “I just want to help one of my best friends, that's all!”

Zuko sets his dumpling down and glares at Ty Lee.

She keeps up the hopeful smile for a second, then deflates, huffing. “Fine -- you caught me. I need a date for awards season.”

No. No no no. Zuko is  _ not _ going to one of those stuffy acting awards shows, and he is certainly  _ not _ going to an entire season of them. He says as much to Ty Lee, making sure to emphasize exactly how much he hates journalists, and Ty Lee seems to wilt with every argument he makes against going. 

"Why don't you go with your usual plan? Did you run through all the boy bands in the country already?” Zuko asks. Ty Lee usually makes a game out of the awards shows; last year, she picked a boy band and went to the awards with a different member on her arm for each. “And besides, aren't you leaving for a shoot? There's no way you can actually make it to the shows if you're halfway across the world.”

Ty Lee winces. “About that. They're kind of related, actually.”

Well. That doesn't sound good.

“I kind of… puttheexecutiveproducerinthehospital,” she confesses in a rush. “Now Mai doesn't want me going to any industry events with a person I can't trust, and the only boy I really trust is you!”

Zuko stares at her. “You  _ put your producer in the hospital?!” _

She shifts in her seat uncomfortably, but nods.

Even though Ty Lee is a master martial artist, and made her fortune by starring in and choreographing her own action films, she’s not a person given to violence. Which means that she was provoked -- that producer must have done something so bad that the only out Ty Lee had seen was by force --

Zuko puts this and the producer's reputation as a womanizer together, and it clicks.

“I'm going to kill that bastard,” Zuko growls, fist tightening around his chopsticks.

Something ugly crosses her face for a moment. But Ty Lee is extremely good at hiding ugly things, so the  _ anger-panic-anxiety  _ barely lasts a second before she pastes on a bright smile. It doesn't reach her eyes. “Oh, there's no need for that,” she says. “He's not a problem anymore, and my schedule just freed itself up! So what do you say?”

Well, there's absolutely no way Zuko can let Ty Lee go with a stranger now. He sighs, and accepts his fate. “Do I need anything specific to wear?”

She beams, genuinely this time, then whips out her phone and jumps into the chair next to Zuko. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about it! I already had someone send me designs -- let me show you --”

Ty Lee gestures to her phone; Zuko cranes his neck, nearly resting his cheek on Ty Lee’s head to look. He expects to see a pink tux or a similar monstrosity, and so he’s startled by their reflection staring back at him instead.

_ Click _ .

“Wait, what was that?!” Zuko yelps, grabbing at her phone. Ty Lee just sticks her tongue out at him, and daintily keeps her phone out of reach -- he sees a few flashes of Instagram’s logo here and there.

“Insurance,” she finally says, after she finishes fiddling with her phone. She shows it to Zuko: it's their photo, Ty Lee’s whole face lit up with laughter, with Zuko (the top half of his face conveniently out of frame) behind her. It’s captioned  _ dimsum date! ❤️ _ , and the likes are already racking up.

“Now you can't stand me up!” she crows victoriously.

Zuko groans in frustration.

She just smiles angelically. “So. When can Mai and I move in?”

~

“ _ This _ is where you live?” Mai asks, voice flat.

Zuko scowls, and closes the door behind him. “It was big enough for one person, especially a person who hadn't been conned into getting roommates.”

Ty Lee sets her suitcases down. “I think it's… cozy!” she says diplomatically. She immediately sets off to poke through Zuko’s shelves,  _ ooh _ ing and  _ aah _ ing over the dual dao in the center. Meanwhile, Mai dumps her suitcase by the couch, her enormous bookbag on the dining table, and goes on to investigate the rooms.

“Cozy?” Mai scoffs. “An apartment with swords on display is cozy? If cozy meant tacky, maybe yeah. At least you have taste in paintings. Are there just two bedrooms? And --” she peeks into the second bedroom, and sighs disgustedly. “And you turned the second into a home office. Great. Where are we even supposed to sleep, Zuko?”

“We were all supposed to pile into Zuko’s bed together, remember? Like a sleepover! I told you over the phone!” Ty Lee says, in an overly innocent voice that means she definitely didn't tell Mai over the phone. “So it doesn't matter how small his house is!”

Wow. Not five minutes in and his house and taste have already been insulted. And as if it wasn't awkward enough that he was going to share a bed with his only ex-girlfriend and his sister’s probably-girlfriend -- he's going to be sharing a bed with his only ex-girlfriend  _ who wasn't aware they were going to share a bed.  _ Mai meets his eyes, and they share a quick moment of acute embarrassment.

“We're supposed to take care of him when he sleepwalks again, so we're gonna have to cuddle-sandwich him like we used to,” Ty Lee continues. Mai rolls her eyes, and stalks into the bedroom to check if  _ that _ room is up to her standards.

Neither Mai nor Ty Lee seems particularly inclined to pick up after themselves, so it looks like Zuko is going to have to do it if he doesn't want his living room cluttered with overstuffed suitcases. He sighs, and starts dragging the bags to the bedroom.

Ty Lee troops into the room after him, completely ignoring his huffing that clearly says  _ some help would be appreciated _ , and gasps in delight. “Wow, your bed is huge!”

“How many people is this even for?” Mai asks incredulously. “Is this an orgy sex bed, Zuko?! _ ” _

“What? No! You know I don't like feeling cramped,” Zuko says, annoyed. Years of having forced sleepovers meant that even king-sized beds feel small to Zuko. There are a few metallic squeaks, and a squeal from Ty Lee that informs him she’s testing the bed by jumping in it, probably. He leaves all the bags next to the cabinets, and turns to his friends. “Are you done telling me that my house is a dump? Because if you are, I'm leaving. It’s Saturday.”

“Are you visiting Azula?” Ty Lee asks excitedly. “Can you give her a hug for me?”

Zuko snorts. “Doubt it.” He walks out, snagging his box of painting supplies on his way. “I’m going -- there are copies of the keys on my desk.”

“You better not have fucked Jet in this bed, Zuko!” Mai calls after him.

Really, the only response he can reasonably make to an ex name-dropping  _ another _ ex is to slam the door, so he does.

~

Zuko is in the car, on his way to visit Azula, when he gets a text from an unknown number.

He stiffens, and his heart immediately goes into overdrive. This is his  _ personal  _ phone -- the only people who have this number are Uncle Iroh, Azula and her attending physicians, his friends, his staff, and the building manager. Their numbers are already programmed into his phone, and all of them know better than to give away this number.

His phone pings again. And  _ keeps _ pinging.

Well, they  _ should _ know better. Zuko grits his teeth, and notices his hands trembling.

Inhale, exhale.

Kyo, his driver-who-is-also-his-bodyguard, notices as well. “Problem, boss?” he asks, a thread of concern under his usually professional tone.

“Unregistered number,” Zuko replies tightly. “Multiple texts.”

That immediately puts Kyo on alert too. He holds out his hand, and Zuko huffs.

“I’m not a child,” he snaps. “I can take care of myself, and I can damn well look at my own texts.”

“Sorry sir, employer’s orders,” Kyo says drily. “Don't let the boss read his own death threats. General Iroh was clear on that, sir.” He doesn't put his hand down.

“Don't you know you're not supposed to text while driving?” Zuko doesn't know why he’s arguing -- he doesn't really want to read it himself. The pipeline protesters have been harassing him ever since the scandal made the news, and they don't seem to care at all that Zuko wasn't even in charge of Comet Energy when that fiasco went down.

It's been exhausting, to say the least. And when Uncle found out, of course he blew it out of proportion. It had been hard to argue Uncle into allowing him to have a phone again -- until Zuko realized that he was a damn adult and didn't need Uncle to  _ allow _ him to do anything. After that, it was easy enough to compromise -- Zuko keeps his phone, but he has to let Kyo handle the messages and calls from unknown numbers. 

Doesn't mean that Zuko had to like it, though. After a moment of stubborn silence, he sighs and gives in, dropping his phone into Kyo’s waiting hand.

They come to a halt at a red light, and Kyo starts scrolling through Zuko’s messages. His eyebrows go up steadily -- there seems to be a lot.

That makes Zuko paranoid, of course. “What?” Zuko demands. “What are they asking for this time?”

Kyo coughs. “Um. It’s not a protester, sir.”

That sends Zuko deeper into a panic. “Who is it, then? Zhao? Ozai’s lawyers? What do they want?!”

“Uh -- it's from a person called Sokka?”

Relief floods through Zuko, followed immediately by extreme annoyance. He takes a shaky breath, and decides that yelling will probably make him feel better. “Sokka? How did that idiot get my contact information?!”

“I -- uh -- here,” Kyo says, voice strangled. His shoulders are shaking too, and his hands seem to be trembling.

Zuko frowns in concern. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking his phone. “Do you need to take a breather? Maybe a walk, to stretch your legs? ”

“No. Nope. No wal-- no. Oh look -- the light is green.”

Is Sokka’s idiocy that contagious? Zuko looks at his phone.

Maybe yeah, it is.

<unknown number>

[13:07] _ hi zuko, its sokka. your next door neighbor? just wanted to apologize for the sleepwalking misunderstanding. hope you aren't too mad _

[13:08]  _ and i know you were super guilty about hitting on me on accident but i dont mind, i promise! people do it all the time! u dont owe me anything ok? _

[13:08] _ *HITTING ME. OH GOD I DIDNT MEAN TO IMPLY THAT YOU WERE HITTING ON ME _

[13:09]  _ I ALSO DONT MEAN TO IMPLY THAT PEOPLE HIT ON ME ALL THE TIME, THAT’S NOT IT AT ALL _

[13:09]  _ not to say that i never get hit on, it's just not often, but not too rarely? i get hit on a REGULAR amount _

[13:10]  _ anyway the point is im sorry i was weird, im sorry i was weird AGAIN just now, and i thimk i know how i can make it up to you ;) _

[13:15]  _ are you interested pls reply y/n _

[13:16] _ lmk so i can prep _

Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose. Kyo’s control finally breaks, and he gives in to the laughter that Zuko now understands he was trying to contain.

“So, boss, he  _ wants to make it up to you,” _ Kyo quotes, wheezing. “Are you  _ interested? _ Because a guy needs time to, y’know,  _ prepare himself.” _

Zuko flushes, and he can feel the redness climbing straight up to his ears. “Shut up, Kyo.”

First things first.

_ How did you get my number? _ [13:22]

Sokka answers immediately.

[13:22]  _ you told me to ask for your number from the building manager right? it took some wheedling but I said you were sleepwalking and I wanted to inform you and they gave it to me _

The building managers, huh? Zuko scrolls through his contacts until he gets to the right number, hits  _ call _ , and prepares to start yelling.

~

Sokka doesn't stop texting him.

[13:23]  _ that's okay right??? you mentioned it last time you were in my apartment? _

[13:25]  _ zuko? _

Zuko rolls his eyes. Anything was better than finding out he was sleepwalking by punching his neighbor, but now that he  _ knew _ , giving out his number to random strangers was truly pointless. He starts tapping out a reply, but Kyo pulls up to Azula’s facility. Zuko stuffs his phone back into his pocket instead, and goes to retrieve today’s supplies.

Saturday is Art Therapy Day, and since Zuko is trying to be a good brother, he never fails to show up on Saturdays to paint with Azula.  _ Spend time with your siblings _ is the first step to developing good sibling relationships, according to  <s>WikiHow</s> credible online sources, and Zuko will be damned before he lets himself fail at  _ step one.  _ Steps two to seven are a bit trickier, but he's trying his best and for once in his life, trying his best is  _ achieving results. _

Azula is waiting for him at their usual seats in the art studio, easels already up and waiting for them. The rest of the room is half-full with patients of varying degrees of enthusiasm, while the instructor is loading up an episode of  _ Painting With Piandao  _ on the projector.

He sets down the box of paints between them, and awkwardly tries to give Azula a hug. ( _ Step 5: Be affectionate _ ) As he expected though, Azula huffs and deftly moves out of range.

“None of that, now, Zuzu,” she warns, looking a bit disturbed by the concept of hugs. She jerks her head to the front of the room. “You're late; we're already about to start.”

“Today, we’re going to be leaving abstract expressionism behind and move on to realism,” the woman says tiredly. “Does everyone have their paints?”

There’s a murmur of assent from the class.

Azula leans over to Zuko.  _ “ _ She just doesn't want to put in the effort required for instructing us,” she hisses, eyes darting meaningfully to the projector. “Art therapy this week has been episodes of  _ Painting with Piandao _ , and the books we were given were all volumes of  _ Poetry with Piandao  _ too. I can't stand it anymore --  _ do something _ about it.“

“Hey, I like Piandao’s work,” Zuko huffs. It was his favorite way to destress back in college; Uncle had noticed and bought him his first set of watercolors back then. These days, he still does a couple every now and then; they're fun, and pretty easy to follow.

But Piandao  _ does _ have a thing for painting landscapes (and only landscapes), so he can see why Azula might be frustrated.

“ _ Anything _ will be better than  _ this _ .” The opening theme begins to play, and Azula purses her lips, completely aggrieved.

Well, at least she isn't insulting the instructor to their face, and she's not smashing or burning the television screen.  _ Miles  _ of growth, if you ask Zuko. “I’ll see what I can do,” Zuko promises, and pulls out his phone to ask Teruko to remind him.

There are several unread texts waiting for him.

<Sokka>

[13:35]  _ hey, im so sorry you were so upset abt your privacy the other day, u must not appreciate me getting ur number from the bldg _

[13:45]  _ TUI AND LA I JUST REALIZED THAT IT LOOKS LIKE I WAS COMING ON YOU IM SO SORRY _

[13:45]  _ **COMING ON TO YOU SKSDJDDJSKSJ _

[13:55] _ im so so sorry about everything, im gonna stop texting now but again i have an idea for a solution to the sleepwalking thing so uh just text me if ur interested _

Zuko scowls.

_ You already have my number; not much I can do about it. Naturally, I would appreciate it if you kept my number to yourself. About everything else, I don't really care, and I have a temporary solution in place now. My sleepwalking should no longer be a problem. Have a nice day.  _ [13:58]

Hopefully Sokka takes the hint and never contacts him again. Zuko doesn’t have the time to deal with random strangers.

<Teruko>

_ Remind me to call Piandao abt art therapy for Azula on Monday, business hours _ [13:59]

Teruko quickly texts him an affirmative, so Zuko sets his phone down and gets started on his painting.

It's a mountain scene today, done in cool blue and gray watercolors. Piandao sounds just as soothing as he used to back in college --  _ one mountain? maybe two, since every mountain needs a friend  _ \-- and before he knows it, he's halfway done with his painting.

He sneaks a look at Azula’s painting, and is startled to see several triangles, of varying sizes, colors and transparencies, drying on her paper.

“Uh, Azula? Weren't we supposed to be painting mountains?”

“Yes, yes, mountains.” She gestures haphazardly to her painting while busy mixing paint with her other hand.

“But, uh --”  _ those are just triangles _ , he doesn't say. Step 2 of developing good sibling relationships is  _ build up their self confidence _ , and that's not a very confidence-building thing to tell your sister who is new to painting. Not that Azula needs any confidence-building, of course;  _ low self-esteem _ has never been a problem of hers. But insulting her painting isn't something a good brother would do, so Zuko bites his tongue.

“So you've, um, moved on from splatter painting to shapes, huh?” Zuko tries.

Azula just levels him with a withering glare. “Piandao is painting  _ mountains _ , Zuzu. Is there anything you can abstract from the image of a mountain that would end up looking like  _ splatters _ ?”

Zuko turns back to their reference photo. “I don't… think so?” he says slowly.

“Yes, exactly!” Azula turns back to her painting exasperatedly, and gets started on glazing the triangles with the darker watercolors she had mixed up. “So I've abstracted the shape instead.”

“Well, uh, they look good.”

“Honestly, brother, I still don't understand why you can't let go of your annoying attachment to realism; is it so hard for you to respect your audience’s ability to understand abstracted ideas? Oh, what am I saying, that you had to  _ ask _ about the mountains at all means that  _ you  _ struggle with the concept yourself, so I suppose…”

Zuko tunes out the rest of Azula’s ranting to look at her painting again. To be fair, they do look good. It doesn't look like Azula’s earlier paintings at all, which were abstract expressionist splatters, all in blue and orange that radiated anger and despair and disappointment. The colors alone were different -- the triangles were in pastel blue, orange, and pink; even the gray one seemed warm instead of dreary somehow. The lines are clean, the colors bright, and every brushstroke is precise.

It strikes him as a painting the sharp and brilliant Azula from before might have done, if she were less desperate to please Ozai and more willing to spend time on frivolous things, like being  _ happy. _

That stops him in his tracks, and it makes him look at the painting with fresh eyes.

_ Every mountain needs a friend _ , and Piandao had painted two. But Azula has four triangles, and she’s completely focused on getting the shades of blue, orange, pink and gray  _ right _ .

Some of the anxiety loosens in Zuko’s chest.

“Hey, Azula?”

“and you might as well get a camera -- what, Zuko?” she demands, whirling to face him. Something must show on his face that catches her off guard, because for a split second, Azula looks  _ vulnerable _ \-- then her haughty mask slides back into place. “Well?” she asks, sneering.

Too late. She can act as lofty as she wants, but that painting is basically a confession that she and Zuko are  _ friends _ .

Zuko nods to the painting. “It looks good,” he repeats, giving her a small smile.

The vulnerable look is back, and this time, it comes with a faint, embarrassed flush.

“I -- thanks,” Azula mumbles.

Suddenly, his phone rings, startling them both.

<Sokka>

[14:24]  _ temporary solution? i have an idea for a PERMANENT solution though. have you considered mounting a camera to your bed? ;) _

Zuko throws his brush down and gets started on a scathing reply.

“Who are you texting?” Azula demands. “I've never known you to  _ text _ ; it better not be that oaf with the wheat grass again.”

“It's not Jet,” Zuko says, still typing feverishly. When he looks up, Azula is studying him intently -- too intently for his comfort.

Azula stares at him some more, then sighs. “Don't let him hurt you, Zuzu,” she snaps, and turns back to her triangles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took a while because azula and zuko attempted to have an angsty scene, but I, as the Author, said No.
> 
> real talk, though, i was getting upset bc i thought i needed to depict a Real account of the ugly things that happen when a loved one goes through that kind of mental illness
> 
> but then i realized it was just as valid to show things going *right* instead of going wrong -- because sometimes, things going Right is real too, and that's what happened when I went through a mental breakdown myself.
> 
> writing that last scene made me really happy. incredibly happy. 
> 
> Kyo is a character taken from MuffinLance's wonderful crew 💖
> 
> thank you to everyone who beta read this chapter - - yall know who you are. the atla fanfic workshop server is UP friends, and if you're a writer looking for a beta, or a person willing to beta, hit me up on tumblr!


	4. Sokka

Because Sokka is a gentleman, he decides to go to Zuko’s apartment and apologize in person. 

He has a  _ really _ bad case of foot-in-mouth syndrome, he knows that, and as soon as he hit send on  _ mounting a camera to your bed _ , he knew that he deserved to be blocked. He had forgotten to tell Zuko that accessibility tech is sort of his thing, so that was completely on Sokka — how else is a person supposed to react to a text that creepy? If Sokka had gotten that text, he would have blocked  _ himself _ , so he doesn't blame Zuko at all. If anything, Sokka would have been more alarmed if Zuko  _ hadn't _ . 

Gran-gran raised Sokka to be man enough to admit his mistakes, though, so when he sees Zuko’s lights on that  night morning, and a mop of dark hair wandering by the window, he doubles back to Aunt Wu's bakery and buys some buns.

"What about a fortune cookie, Sokka?" Aunt Wu asks amiably. "They're fresh!"

Sokka snorts — as if a day would change his opinion on that fortune-telling mumbo jumbo from his opinion yesterday, or all the days before that. "I'll pass on those, thanks. Just a double order of my usual pork buns."

She shrugs. "As always, it's your loss, dear." She reaches into the display case for several buns, one package for Sokka and one package for Zuko —

Does Zuko even eat pork buns? He looks like the posh type, has probably never eaten street food before in his entire  _ life — _

Does Zuko even eat pork? What if he's vegan, like Aang? 

"Wa — wait!" Sokka cries. Aunt Wu looks up questioningly, her tongs still on a fat pork bun. 

"I'm not sure if my friend is vegan, or has any allergies." he says haltingly. 

"Not to worry, the first bag has buns with assorted fillings — pork, mushroom and chive, and egg custard." Aunt Wu assures him, eyes twinkling. "He can choose whatever he likes from those, but I don't foresee him to have a problem with any of them." 

Sokka's jaw drops. 

The old hack just smirks, and rings up his buns. "Are you  _ sure _ you won't take that fortune cookie?"

Nah, the fortune telling can't possibly be right. This was just an elaborate marketing ploy to get regular customers to try out their new flavors. Sokka shakes his head, both as a negative and as an attempt to shake off the exhaustion that had him believing in  _ fortune telling  _ just now, and pays for the damn food. 

~ 

Sokka rehearses his apology on the way up, because he doesn't trust himself to not fuck it up if he goes into this unprepared. 

_ Hi, Sokka here. I just wanted to apologize for being a total creep on the phone over the weekend. That's not at all how I usually behave, I just get really flustered when I talk to new people I wanna befriend, and you can probably kill me in five seconds flat with your bare hands and that's super fucking cool — _

Sokka takes a deep breath and tries again. 

_ Hi, Sokka here. I'm sorry if my messages over the weekend made you uncomfortable. I wasn't thinking about how my words could be interpreted, so I said several things that could be misconstrued into something very disrespectful. I hope you can forgive me, or at least put this whole issue behind us.  _

Hand Zuko the apology not-pork buns and that should be perfect. Katara would totally be proud.

Duly bolstered, he heads to Zuko's door and knocks with confidence he doesn't really have. 

A long moment passes, but no one answers the door. Sokka frowns to himself — the lights were on, right? He looks down to check, and yep, there's a strip of light peeking through the gap under the door. He raises his fist uncertainly to knock again, when suddenly, the door swings open. 

It's Zuko, and he's sweaty, shirtless, and pissed.

"What?" 

Sokka gulps. His eyes zero in to the droplet of sweat making its way down to Zuko's collarbone without his brain's permission, but he forces himself to make – and keep – eye contact instead. "Hi, Sokka here," he begins. "I'm sorry if my messages over the weekend made you uncomfortable. I wasn't thinking about, uh, words, so you got flustered – I mean  _ I  _ got flustered, because you can kill me with your bare hands and that's hot, I mean, cool –"  _ holy shit Sokka, get it together _ "– anyway, it wasn't okay to text you those things and I'm sorry." He thrusts the bag of buns forward. 

Zuko scowls at him for a long moment. Sokka's stomach churns in the silence; a bead of sweat forms on his forehead as he waits for any form of acknowledgement from Zuko. 

Finally, the jerk rolls his eyes, and snatches the bag from Sokka's outstretched hand. 

"Whatever," Zuko grumbles. "Just stop texting me." 

"Uh, okay," says Sokka, crestfallen. "Sorry again. So, uh, are we good now?" 

"Fine. I've found a solution to my sleepwalking, as I already said, so  _ I _ won't be bothering you in the middle of the night anymore —"

"Zuko, who was it?"

It's a woman's voice, dusky and low, and more than a little annoyed. 

Zuko flushes. The color starts high on his cheeks but spreads down, and while Sokka is watching this development a little too intently than he would ever admit, he notices the smattering of tiny bruises along Zuko's torso. 

It suddenly occurs to Sokka that "before dawn" isn't exactly the ideal time to make social visits. 

"Uh, am I interrupting —" he squeaks. 

"Yes," Zuko snaps.

Sokka's entire face gets alarmingly hot alarmingly fast, and he privately thanks Tui, La, and whoever the god of melanin is for his dark, blush-proof skin. 

"Oh," he says faintly. "I'll just get out of —"

"Zuko, come back! We're not done with you yet!" someone –  _ another woman _ – cries from inside Zuko's apartment.

There's only one bed in Zuko's entire apartment, and apparently, it's  _ that big _ for a reason. 

Sokka's brain checks out at the realization that Zuko's solution to sleepwalking is to sleep with multiple probably-hot girls at the same time until he's  _ physically too tired to sleepwalk _ . Sokka's body, scrambling for a reaction with absolutely no guidance from his higher cognitive functions, decides that the best course of action is to bring his hands up into the world's awkwardest finger guns. 

"Oh — go get 'em, tiger," Sokka croaks, dying a little inside. 

Zuko – entirely understandably – slams the door in his face. 

~

Zuko walks back into the living room-turned-sparring ring, determined not to acknowledge what just happened. 

Ty Lee has other plans, though – even upside down and deep into a stretch, she doesn't miss the flustered blush that Zuko can't suppress. She flips back to her feet immediately, excited. "Was it the neighbor boy you liked?" 

"Another round?" he asks Mai, completely ignoring Ty Lee. 

Mai smirks at him. "Looks like it  _ was _ the neighbor boy. And he brought –" she snatches the bag and peers into it "– buns." 

Ty Lee snickers. "Why don't you give Sokka's buns a try, Zuko? They look really good, all plump and warm –  _ ow!" _

"Less talking, more sparring!" he barks, ears flaming. 

~

Sokka doesn't know why he expected sympathy from  _ Toph _ , of all people. 

"Stop laughing!" he yelps. "It was an accident!"

Teo looks up from his budget spreadsheets to stare at Sokka incredulously. "Finger guns?  _ Accidental _ finger guns?" 

He's got a point. That  _ is _ the stupidest fucking thing Sokka has ever done in his life,  _ including _ that one time with the two fish hooks. 

A fresh wave of giggles hits Toph, and Sokka flops back into his chair, sighing. "I don't know, man, I don't know what came over me. I was just – I didn't expect it, you know?" He glumly turns to the computer (that was  _ supposed _ to be used for the lab's 3D printer) and loads up an episode of  _ Painting with Piandao _ . "I bet those girls are really hot too, and Tui and La why did I even think I had a chance with Zuko —"

Toph stops laughing abruptly, and she turns to Sokka in shock. "Zuko?" she demands. "Mean, grumbly voice, fluffy hair, big scar, and sleepwalks?"

Sokka blinks. "Uh, yeah?"

"Holy fucking spirits," Toph marvels, and starts cackling in a truly demented way. 

"Am I – am I supposed to know him?" he asks, completely at a loss. "Does he go here or something?"

"You – you awkward finger-gunned  _ Zuko _ !" Toph howls through her giggles, clutching at her stomach. "I can't believe it – spirits, to have been in the same fucking room as you, making finger guns at  _ Zuko – _ "

Behind her, Teo gasps, eyes round and with the beginnings of the  _ Eureka! _ grin he only gets when they have a breakthrough in their research. "You can't mean Zuko –"

"Yep!" Toph says, wiping away a tear. 

" _ That _ Zuko –"

"Yep –"

"The one with the –"

Toph cuts him off. " _ Yes.  _ Now quit yapping, I wanna see how long it takes Sokka to realize who he is." 

"Who he is – is he someone important?" Sokka asks, bewildered. He whips out his phone to google it; Teo tries to snatch it away but Toph only waves him off. 

In a second, Sokka finds out why – there are more than half a million Zukos on Facebook alone. 

"Why are there so many goddamned Zukos in the Fire Nation?!" he screeches, furiously scanning through profile after profile. Why hadn't he bothered to ask for Zuko's last name when he was talking to the building manager?

Toph has her widest shit-eating grin on, and has the  _ audacity _ to laugh at Sokka's plight yet again. "Some Fire King or whatever was named Zuko, and you know how obsessed with the old monarchy these people are." 

Sokka glares at her. "How do you even know Zuko anyway?" 

"He's related to a friend of mine. And no, I'm not telling you who the friend is," Toph retorts unrepentantly. "Are you done with your budget requests? I have a meeting at three – as much as I wanna waste time laughing at your social life, I'm not going to win any cash from sticking around." 

Teo wraps something up at his laptop, and unplugs a flash drive. "Done!" he says, dropping it into Toph's outstretched hand. "Thanks again for doing this, you have no idea how much it means to us –"

"Yeah, yeah," she interrupts. She pockets the flash drive and heads out. "Just make me a seeing eye drone with the money and we'll call it even!" 

"You're not getting a single scrap of that drone if you don't tell me who Zuko is!" Sokka yells at Toph's back. 

Teo wheels himself over and grabs Sokka into a headlock. "What he really means is that we appreciate that you invested your easily earned stock-gambling money in us, and that we'll have your drone ready for you soon!" he calls after her.

~

Sokka gets off work astoundingly early – there's no testing scheduled today so he's on his way home in the  _ evening  _ for the first time in months. It feels good to be walking in the crisp night air surrounded by lights and sound and  _ people _ for once, instead of trudging home alone right before dawn. He'll finally be able to eat dinner in his own house too; maybe he'll even use a bowl this time, instead of eating his stir-fry straight out of the pan he cooked it in —

Shit. His fridge is empty – he hasn't gone to get groceries the entire month. Sokka heaves a great sigh, and backtracks to Aunt Wu's. 

The shelves are almost empty, and the buns are sold out, but they still have some of the pork floss rolls. They're not as good as the buns, but still plenty delicious; Sokka orders a couple and fishes out his wallet while Aunt Wu rings up his purchase. 

"The pastries are half price in the evening. Would you like an egg tart?" she asks. 

What the hell – might as well celebrate his first evening at home for the month. "Make that four." Sokka drops some bills onto the counter, and Aunt Wu adds some tarts obligingly to his paper bag. But then she reaches for the jar of fortune cookies. 

"Nah, I'm not buying those," Sokka says quickly. 

"Oh, don't worry dear! These are free; we always give away any cookies left when we're about to close." She smiles at Sokka, that knowing twinkle in her eye again. "Maybe you'll even find it worthwhile tonight."

Sokka barely resists rolling his eyes, and forces himself to thank Aunt Wu for the free Random Note Cookies. 

It doesn't take long for his curiosity to get the better of him, though; he's barely out of the shop when he tears one out of its packaging.

_ Tonight you will be blinded by passion.  _

Sokka snorts. What a load of crap this is. The only thing blinding him tonight will be his TV when he settles in to play video games; he hasn't been  _ blinded with passion  _ since he and Suki broke up. 

Which is depressing, yeah, but it still definitely means this is a scam. He pops the cookie into his mouth – Gran-gran didn't raise food-wasters, no sir – and is pleasantly surprised that the cookie actually tastes good. 

Huh. Maybe they're not useless after all. 

He munches on the rest of them on the walk home, and the messages keep getting more and more ridiculous:

_ You will find your love today. _

_ Stop searching; love and happiness are right next to you.  _

_ You will know it when you see him. He will know it when he sees you.  _

_ The love of your life will appear in front of you unexpectedly! _

_ Your love life will be happy and harmonious soon.  _

Man, the people making these are obsessed with romance, aren't they? Not a single note on career success; Sokka knows these don't really work, but a  _ "Your experiments will succeed and prove all your hypotheses correct!"  _ would have been really appreciated. He crams the last one in his mouth just as he reaches his front door, and reaches into his pocket for his keys. 

Which aren't there. 

Oh no. Sokka pats down his back pockets – empty, both of them – and begins to panic. He lost his original keys, so he's already on his spare set, and Katara has an emergency key but she's in spirits-know-where in the Earth Kingdom right now —

He's in the middle of ransacking his backpack in the hallway, looking for his keys, when the elevator  _ dings _ and a couple of girls step out.

Unfortunately, in the split second that Sokka looks up, he makes eye contact with the girl on the right. Her eyes widen with recognition.

"Hi – are you Sokka?" she demands.

Um. 

"Um," Sokka, son of Hakoda, almost-PhD, answers intelligently. 

She squeals. "You are, you are! Thank you so much for taking care of Zuko when he sleepwalks; you have no idea how worried we were when we found out he's been having problems again, I thought he'd really hurt himself this time and —"

"Ty Lee," the other one interrupts. 

"— maybe fall off the — oh!" The girl cuts herself off, finally noticing that Sokka was having a bit of a problem. "What's wrong?"

"I kind of locked myself out," he says sheepishly. "I might need to call a locksmith."

"Why don't you wait with us, then?" the second one – the one in maroon and black ‐ suggests smoothly. "My name is Mai; Ty Lee and I live with Zuko across the hall."

Sokka  _ knows _ that voice; low and raspy and striking as hell —

With a jolt, he realizes that these are the two girls Zuko had in his apartment yesterday. Today. Earlier this morning. 

His ears are immediately on fire, and he wants to sink into the floor in embarrassment. 

"Uh, I'm um. I wouldn't want to impose," Sokka squeaks. 

"Of course you wouldn't!" Ty Lee says brightly, and tugs Sokka across the hall with them. "We haven't thanked you yet for taking care of Zuko! You should have dinner with us, and maybe you don't even have to call the locksmith since Zuko can just sneak in and open the door from the inside —"

"What Ty Lee means," Mai interrupts again, "is that we'd love to have you over for dinner, and if you don't mind waiting for Zuko to come home we might have an alternative solution to your problem."

Sokka hesitates. Dinner with his crush and his crush's two hot girlfriends?  _ Not _ his idea of a great evening in. But it's true that Zuko can probably get into Sokka's house with no problem and with no professional fee, and Sokka is just a man with a budget that has no room for an expensive locksmith.

Besides, Zuko still owes him a favor, right? 

"Alright, then," he finally agrees, and shakes the paper bag full of pastries slightly. "I have dessert?"

Ty Lee beams.    
  



	5. Interlude

**MAI**

It's not hard to get Zuko's neighbor talking; Ty Lee is _ excellent _ at the girl-next-door role, and in fifteen minutes Mai should have all the information Uncle Iroh would want about a possible boyfriend for Zuko. All three of them settle into the living room with the egg tarts the neighbor brought, and Mai lets Ty Lee work her magic while she _ hmms _ and _ uh huhs _ her way through the conversation, idly texting Uncle Iroh all the while. 

_ Sokka, son of Hakoda, _ she texts, _ born and raised in the South Pole, one younger sister - waterbending doctor _ , while Sokka tells a truly stupid story about two fish hooks and his sister Katara learning to heal him. _ University of the North Pole, engineering undergrad, PhD student at Western Institute of Technology _ follows that, when Ty Lee asks him about his job, and then _ research funded by Toph Beifong - ask for character reference? _when Sokka goes on a long tangent about his current project of using bending to develop assistive technology for the disabled. 

Agni, this guy is hitting all of Zuko's weak points and _ Zuko's not even here _ . Intensely passionate about social issues? Check. Dumbass donut with genius filling? Check. If this guy _ happens _to be a master of some sort of bladed weapon, Zuko is toast. 

Once Mai is sure that this guy isn't another Jet in the making, she says goodbye to Iroh and sends one last text, to Zuko: _ you are so fucked. _

~

**ZUKO**

Zuko is on his way home when he gets a text from Mai. 

_ you are so fucked. _

And that's just the cherry on top of this shitshow of a day. Zuko angrily texts back with _ ??????? _, but gets no reply. 

Figures. His friends have all decided to be cryptic today, apparently. He'd gotten a message from _ Toph Beifong _ too, which he thought was important; Toph never leaves a message when she can storm into his office herself, and Zuko _ knows _she's in the city. When he plays the recording, it’s just a full two minutes of Toph laughing and wheezing her guts out. When he called her back, she didn't bother to answer either.

The only thing that went well today is his phone call with Azula; she lets him visit again that week, and even gives him some advice on how to deal with the uncooperative board. (_ Get rid of them, Zuzu.) _The relief Zuko feels when he unlocks his front door is immense; finally, this fucking day is over and he can relax in the peace and quiet of his own house —

_ Sokka _ is sprawled on his couch, gesturing wildly as he chats up Ty Lee. He looks up at Zuko, all wide blue eyes and easy smiles, and just says " _ Hey." _

Mai was right. He _ is _fucked. 

~

**SOKKA**

The only warning Sokka gets is the _ click _ of a key at the front door — he turns to check who it was, and is immediately assaulted by the sight of Zuko in a suit. 

Tui and La, what a sight it is. Maroon isn't a common color choice for suits, mainly because no one should be able to pull it off, but _ Zuko _ pulls it off effortlessly. Sokka takes approximately half a second to appreciate the sight — all straight lines and hard angles and seriously _ no one should stay this pristine after an entire day at work _— but he gets his head on straight and forces himself to stop staring.

"Hey," he says, attempting to sound casual. 

There's a pregnant pause, and Zuko stares at Ty Lee, then at Mai, and then at Sokka, and announces, "I don't know what the hell is going on, but I'm going to shower and change, and whatever this is better be resolved when I get out."

Then he stalks off to his room, yanking his tie loose as he goes, and Sokka is left to grapple with the images of Zuko stripping and Zuko in the shower while _Zuko's two girlfriends_ usher him towards the dining table. 

~

**TY LEE**

Ty Lee tries her best to be a good friend, so she doesn't smirk, doesn't laugh, and doesn't high five Mai even if she wants to. Because it's obvious to her, even if it's not obvious to Zuko: Sokka is really,_ really_ into him. 

Zuko literally _ steams _ when he steps out of his room in only sweatpants, not bothering to towel himself dry, and she and Mai exchange amused looks over Sokka's blatant staring. The steaming turns to _ sizzling _, when Zuko finally notices, and Ty Lee says nothing because that's what good friends do. She doesn't quite manage to stifle a snort, though, and earns a filthy glare from Zuko before he stomps to his usual seat at the table. 

It doesn't scare her, not even remotely. Zuko may look intimidating — he even breathes little licks of flame when he's really annoyed — but he's really a softie at heart. A fact that Ty Lee has mercilessly exploited since she was eight. What's a little teasing among friends, after all? 

So Ty Lee hops into the seat next to Sokka and dials up the charm to a hundred. She has a lot of matchmaking work to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko: *steps out of bathroom, steaming*  
Sokka: did it just get _steamy_ in here  
Zuko: *sizzles dry*  
Sokka: did anyone tell you youre sizzling hot

**Author's Note:**

> you can find my atla sideblog [here](https://zukosturtleducks.tumblr.com).


End file.
